


feverish

by orphan_account



Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Fluff, Sickfic, sick!barley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Barley gets a cold, but he is just a bit too stubborn to admit it. Good thing Ian and Laurel take care of him.
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot & Ian Lightfoot, Barley Lightfoot & Laurel Lightfoot, Colt Bronco/Laurel Lightfoot
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98





	feverish

**Author's Note:**

> i was inspired by [this](https://k-liight.tumblr.com/post/613229339884093440/i-love-the-quarantine-ask-you-got-and-had-to) post on tumblr (warning for corona related stuff! none of it in this fic tho) and i couldn't sleep until i finished this fic. ngl kinda pissed bc i've been wanting to write a httyd fic for ages but this fucker just popped out of nowhere and was finished in less then three hours. but this fandom needs more content soo it's all good  
> also, just fyi, i know this is a children's movie and while the plot of this fic is fairly light, there is swearing, smoking, mentions of drinking and sex. bc i lov including my own life experience in fics ig.if u dnt want 2 c these kind of themes in an onwards fic, i recommend not reading this fic :) nothing graphic dw

Barley had been fine when Ian had seen him that morning at breakfast.  
Ian hadn’t expected to see his brother so soon after he returned from school. Barley had started an apprenticeship at the local car repair and preferred to spend most of his time outside with his friends, getting drunk, playing Quest of Yore (He had also started a campaign with Ian, their mother and Bronco recently and Ian had to admit it was more fun than he had thought. And he was learning a bit about magic, which was a plus) or doing god-know what borderline-illegal stuff.  
He usually didn’t see Barley again until late at night, when he would come home, raid the fridge and pass out soon after or invite Ian to his room to play videogames, if his younger brother was still up.  
But that day he found Barley on the couch, half asleep by the looks of it. He barely moved when Ian came through the door, despite Blazey raising hell as she usually did when someone came in. 

“Hey”, he greeted his brother, half-quiet just in case Barley was actually asleep.  
“Yo!”, came the muffled reply and Barley propped himself up on the couch cushions. “How was school?”, he asked cheerfully, although he looked a little disoriented.  
“Fine”, Ian shrugged, chugging his backpack in the corner and going to the living room. He sat down at the free end of the sofa “Feels a bit like I’m wasting my time though”, he admitted.  
Barley grinned, leaning back “For someone who didn’t give a fuck about magic like, a month ago, you sure have lost all interest in anything else. Wasn’t math your thing?”  
“Was”, Ian agreed.  
“I’m sure Mom would love to see you go off to college, become a mathematician”, Barley continued. After their great adventure, Laurel had remained skeptic of magic. She was fine with her sons’ interest in it and understood that it was important to the two of them for very personal reasons. But she had also experienced how dangerous it could be first hand (Ian would probably never forget his mother swinging that gigantic sword, piercing a dragon's heart with it. Now that had been badass). Ian had yet to tell her he was planning to study magic once he finished high school. It was not a very promising industry these days, either.  
“You know I don’t want to do that”, he muttered.  
Barley laughed and clapped him on the back “Just messing with you”  
But he seemed to notice this was genuinely bothering Ian and his smile turned softer. “Once Mom sees what a grand wizard you are, she will be happy she didn’t pressure you into college”, he promised.  
Ian sighed “I hope”  
He turned to look at his brother. Barley was looking just a bit worse for wear. There was a thin shine of sweat on his forehead, and maybe it was the light, but he looked kind of pale, too.  
“Why are you home so early, anyway?”, Ian asked.  
Barley shrugged “Flu’s been going around at work, boss sent all of us home”  
Ian raised a hand to feel his brother’s forehead, like his mom always had done when he was feeling unwell, but Barley flinched away. “I’m not sick!”, he grunted, “It’s the other guys. Just thought I’d take a little nap before heading over to Laura’s”  
Ian frowned, but didn’t push the matter further.  
“She had this cool new track she wanted to show us”, Barley told Ian, “One of these days she’s going to be playing at one of those great rave festivals, and I’ll have VIP tickets”  
“You don’t even like electronic music”, Ian reminded him.  
Barley shrugged “It’s better than all that Hip-Hop stuff”

Ian turned his attention to the TV, where a surprisingly cheesy soap opera was playing.  
“Now that’s low even for you”, he commented. Ian himself, was admittedly kind of a romantic, but not even he would watch this truly sappy stuff. Nevermind Barley, who liked his TV shows like he liked everything else – loud and with lots of explosives and one-liners.  
“Didn’t even notice what was on”, Barley muttered, already drifting back off into sleep. 

“When did you come home last night?”, Ian asked.  
“1am, I dunno”, Barley yawned again.  
“Because either you didn’t get any sleep, or you’re sick after all”, Ian insisted.  
“I’m not-“, Barley started protesting, but Ian had already thrown himself on top of his brother and took advantage of his sluggish reactions to feel his forehead. It was pretty warm. He felt his own for comparison, and yeah, Barley seemed to be running a fever.  
“I’m going to get the thermometer”, he decided and got up.  
“Ian!”, Barley called hoarsely, but Ian didn’t listen. The yelling seemed to be a bit too much for Barley’s vocal cords, because he started coughing. 

Ian retrieved the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet and grabbed a blanket out of the hallway closet when he was walking back to the living room.  
Barley seemed to have surrendered to his fate. He had grabbed the remote, looking for something more interesting to watch.  
“Here”, Ian handed Barley the thermometer, who stuffed it into his armpit. When Ian tried to cover him with the blanket, Barley protested.  
“Ian, this is really unnecessary!”, he argued, “I feel fine!”  
Ian raised an eyebrow. He just continued giving Barley that same, sarcastic look, until the thermometer beeped, signaling it had taken Barley's temperature.  
Barley handed it to him “I have no idea how to read temperature”, he muttered grumpily and pulled the blanket closer around him.  
Ian took the little plastic object.  
“102°! Barley, you are sick!”  
“Am I?”, Barley pouted.  
“Yes!”, Ian insisted. “Stay here, I’m going to make you some tea” At least that’s what he thought one did when someone was sick. He didn’t have much experience when it came to taking care of someone, usually he was the sick one and Barley was there to cheer him up.  
“Don’t even think about sneaking off to Laura’s!”, he yelled from the kitchen. While the water was boiling, Ian pulled out his phone to do what any person his age would do – google what he actually should be doing.  
It turned out, 102°F was a bit higher of a fever then he had thought. Barley should be feeling like crap. He probably was and was just too stubborn to admit it. The website he had pulled up also told him he shouldn’t be too worried, despite that. Make sure Barley was hydrated and comfortable and as long as his temperature didn’t rise everything was peachy. That sounded just about manageable. Mom would be home soon, and Ian was confident she would know what to do. She had tons of experience with Ian. But Barley had rarely gotten sick through their childhood though and Ian couldn’t help but feel a bit worried. 

“Do you have any other symptoms?”, Ian asked when he returned to the kitchen, with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a water bottle. Hydration was important, according to the website.  
“I’m fine!”, Barley insisted, but now that Ian was in the know, he noticed Barley’s voice was just a bit raspier then usual, and he seemed to have a hard time keeping upright.  
“Okay”, Ian sighed. This time he sat down in the armchair, leaving Barley the room to lie down on the couch. “Tell me if you need anything”  
“Ian, I’m not a baby”, Barley huffed, but Ian wasn’t going to take it too seriously. Barley didn’t like being babied, and that was perfectly fine, but he would not let his brother walk around out of sheer spite until he wore himself out completely.  
They watched a rather childish cartoon about a bunch of robots in space, Barley drifting in and out of sleep, until Laurel came home. 

“Ian, honey! I’m home!”, she called, expecting, just like Ian had, for Barley to be elsewhere.  
“Hey, Mom!”, Ian greeted her over Blazey’s roaring. The noise the little dragon was making seemed to have alerted Barley as well, who wanted to greet her as well, only to find out his voice had become too raspy to speak loudly. Laurel probably didn’t hear it while she was wrestling Blazey back into her lair, but she saw the mop of blue hair over the back of the couch.  
“Barley”, their mom smiled, “Nice to see you at daytime”  
“He’s sick, mom”, Ian informed her, pointedly looking at Barley, who didn’t seem to have the energy to argue anymore. 

It was like he had flicked a switch. Laurel forgot all about the groceries in the hallway and hurried over to the couch “Oh, my poor baby”, she sighed, putting a hand to Barley’s forehead just like Ian had done. She sat down on the edge of the sofa, pulling Barley in a hug. “Poor baby”, she repeated.  
“Mom”, Barley whined, obviously annoyed.  
“I’m going to get you some medicine”, she promised, pushing Barley back into the cushions and covering him in the blanket he had kicked off at some point. “Do you want a tea?”  
“Ian already made me one”, Barley muttered, his displeasure at the whole situation shining through.  
“Oh, you’ve been taking care of you brother?”, Laurel beamed at Ian, who had been putting away the groceries his mom had forgotten about.  
Before Ian could give her more then an awkward smile, she had already hurried off to get whatever she needed to make Barley feel better. 

Ian was sure that, if given the choice, Barley would have hidden in his room and never told anyone he was sick. If he hadn’t passed out on the sofa, still in denial about having the flu, that’s probably exactly what would have happened. He might even have kept going to work and meeting up with friends, if the auto mechanic hadn’t shut down today, until he would have completely worn himself out. Ian rolled his eyes at no one in particular. His older brother really was an idiot sometimes. 

Laurel only stopped fussing over Barley when the elf had fallen asleep again, after she had given him a cough medicine as well ibuprofen to curb the fever, and made sure he changed into comfortable clothes and drank at least a cup of tea. She seemed completely deaf to Barley’s insistent complaining all through it.  
When Bronco came home and Barley was still asleep on the couch, Laurel shushed him with an expression that Ian was kind of afraid to speak loudly for the rest of the evening.  
Barley woke up shortly after they had had dinner. His fever had risen to a worrying 104°F and he wasn’t coherent enough to speak properly. Laurel managed to guide him back to his own room, once Barley had refused dinner, and Ian helped her quickly clear the bed of the random junk littering it, before they put down Barley, who passed out again almost immediately. 

“He never got sick”, Laurel sighed back in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine, “When one of them was sick it was always Ian and Barley was practically immune to everything!”  
“He’ll be fine”, Bronco reassured her, patting her back, “Don’t worry, babe”

For the most part Ian was okay with Bronco sticking around now, but he quickly left to go to his room when he started massaging Laurel’s shoulders, who, despite still being worried, was leaning into him a bit too much.  
He tried to focus on his homework, that he had neglected so far, in favor of watching over Barley and helping mom with dinner, but it didn’t quite work. Homework just felt like a waste of time now that he was sure he would barely need any of this in his life. And he was still worried about Barley. Mom was right, he never got sick. 

When Ian had been younger, until he was twelve or so, he would spend at least half the winter sick in bed with similar symptoms his brother was now exhibiting. And sometimes mom would allow Barley, who was perfectly fine, to stay home with him. Perhaps she was less worried with at least someone there to take care of her sick son. Barley would get snacks, that Ian couldn’t eat because he was nauseous and his throat hurt so much, he could barely swallow, and they would watch movies all day. It was the only time Barley let Ian pick what they would watch without a fight, him being sick and all. Occasionally Barley read to Ian, when he got headaches form the TV. He sometimes got some words wrong, but he could always do the voices so well.  
Thinking back, it had been great. Sure, Ian had not been feeling well and whenever he returned to school he would have lots of material to catch up on. But those days would have been so much lonelier without Barley there, who once even got in trouble for sneaking back home after mom dropped him off at school, just to be with Ian.

Ian ended up not getting much schoolwork done and when he checked the time it was already past ten. He was about to just put his books back into his backpack and get ready for bed, when he heard something downstairs. By the sounds of it, it was Barley.  
Curious, Ian sneaked downstairs. No one was there and he was about to go back upstairs, thinking he had imagined it, when he noticed the porch light on. “Bronco”, he muttered to himself, thinking the centaur had left it on once again. When he stepped closer to the front door, he saw a figure by the driveway. As quietly as possible, not to alert Blazey, he opened the door and snuck outside. 

“Barley!”, he whispered loudly, “What are you doing?”  
His brother looked like a peryton caught in the headlights.  
He guiltily looked at Ian, whose eyes were focused on the cigarette burning away between Barley’s fingers.  
Ian crossed the lawn. “You shouldn’t be out in the cold! And smoking of all things!”, he hissed, “You aren’t even wearing shoes!”  
“I’m not cold”, Barley muttered. He looked like every word caused his throat great pain.  
“Because you have a fever!”

Barley was looking worse then he had when Ian came home, his fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead. He had trouble focusing his eyes on Ian.  
They had discussed Barley’s smoking habit countless times, Ian taking their mother’s side on all occasions. But that Barley was stubborn enough to sneak out when he was sick, just for a cigarette, that would only worsen the state of his throat? Ian was just a little pissed.  
“I’m going to be back inside in a minute”, Barley groaned, than he started coughing.  
“Serves you right”, Ian commented angrily.  
“Fuck you”, Barley hacked out. It wasn’t really an insult, he was just fed up. To someone like Barley, who seemed to be doing at least three things at once at all times, being stuck in bed, unable to do anything must be torture, even if he had slept through most of it.  
“Be glad mom didn’t catch you”, Ian told him, “Although I think she’s busy with Bronco right now”  
Barley made a disgusted face. “If I have to know so do you”, Ian shrugged.  
He begrudgingly waited until Barley finished the cigarette that had been more important to him then his own health and walked his brother back inside.  
“Now go to bed”, he ordered. Kind of unnecessarily, as Barley could barely stand on his feet.  
Ian made him another tea and when he put it on his bedside table Barley was already nearly asleep again.

Despite his nightly exploits, that Ian didn’t tell their mother about, Barley’s fever was back to 102°F by morning, when Laurel checked up on him before going to work.  
“You just rest”, she told her son, kissing him on the forehead before standing up.  
Barley had accepted he would spend the day in bed. Despite arguing with Ian when he had caught him, even sneaking out for a cigarette had been an unpleasant, draining experience. His throat had hurt real bad afterwards and the nicotine had made him even dizzier then he was before. But even sick his body was craving its fix. Just like Barley, it did what it liked.  
He was wondering if it would be worth the effort to get up and go to the living room, where he would be able to watch Netflix on a bigger screen, when he heard the door open.  
Ian had left for school before Barley had woken up, and both his mom and Bronco were on their way to work now. But someone was home now. 

“Barley!”  
It was Ian. He could hear him wrestle with Blazey, than the door to his room opened, and his brother was sheepishly grinning at him.  
“Forgot something?”, Barley asked.  
“Uh, no”, Ian entered the room and sat down on Barley’s desk chair.“I’m ditching”, he admitted.  
Now, Barley was the first to know Ian wasn’t as well-behaved as some people thought he was. But he was still just a little surprised.  
“Thought we could watch some movies”, Ian suggested. "And I'll make sure you don't do stupid stuff that will keep you sick longer"  
Finally, Barley figured it out. He remembered all the days he had spent at home with his brother better then Ian himself, being three years older and not having been sick at the time.  
“Sounds good”, he grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> a peryton is a hybrid of a stag and bird from d&d btw, bc i wasnt sure if deers r a thing in the onwards universe lmao


End file.
